Emerald Eyes
by Sabilandako
Summary: Arthur Kirkland always liked the color green. Emerald green to be exact. That was the hue that perfectly describes the color of his own bright and peircing eyes. His eyes were big and always shining, it was always full of life. But how could he still like the color green now? How could he do it when the reason he liked the color green was slowly vanishing?
1. Chapter 1

**hello. Just a short story that wouldn't let me sleep until I write it. Haha so yeah, this story sucks. so sorry :'( and another thing, I wrote this on my sister's tablet so this story might have many spelling mistakes. I am sorry again.**

**Oh! The inspiration behind this was that I just can't help but fall in love with Iggy's eyes. God, they are so adorable. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

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Arthur Kirkland always liked the color green. Emerald green to be exact. That was the hue that perfectly describes the color of his own bright and peircing eyes. His eyes were big and always shining, it was always full of life.

But how could he still like the color green now? How could he do it when the reason he liked the color green was slowly vanishing?

Well, the reason was that his eyes, which were once lively, was slowly losing its vibrance. If people would stare at those eyes, they would see complete and utter sorrow, complete and utter lifelessness. That was right, those bright emerald eyes were now reduced to mere dull and apathetic green.

And that started all when he transferred at that school.

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Arthur's first few weeks at that school was okay, hell, he was even made the student council president. Yes, he was popular at that, but even his popularity could not give him true happiness.

What he looked forward to was a great time together with his childhood friends who coincidentally transferred at that school as well. But all of that was slowly trashed when his friends started growing distant.

For example, Alfred. He and Alfred were once best friends, but with this dictating and controlling high school, Alfred became one of the populars. Alfred became a jock, a football player to be exact. What his friends do, he did that too. Even bullying innocent people, he was there together with his so-called friends. It even reached a point when Alfred and his friends started bullying Arthur, and Alfred seemed like he was enjoying it too. 'What a great friend' Arthur would always think while being pushed inside a small locker.

Another example would be Francis. Even at a young age, Arthur and Francis would always fight. But even though killing each other was just a daily occurence, that was just their way of showing how they cared for each other. They weren't frenemies just for nothing. But now, again with this school, Francis started growing distant. He was popular with the girls and he became friends with 'two bloody idiots'. Together, the tree of them form the so-called 'Bad touch trio'. Since the beginning of this year, Francis and Arthur became enemies, with the absence if the word 'friends'. 'A very great enemy indeed.' Arthur would always think while being shoved by the bad touch trio on the restroom's floor.

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Another problem of Arthur was his father. Now, since he transferred at that school, his father would always beat him up, not physically, but emotionally. Arthur would always be blamed by his father because of the death of Arthur's mother. His mother died a week before he stared high school, and his father became a drunkard. On daily occurence, his father would always shout at Arthur for being 'useless, good for nothing bitch'. But when he was drunk, he would always shout at Arthur for being 'a person whose existence should just vanish, a person who should just die'.

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Arthur maybe a guy who was not fond of showing emotions, but on the inside, oh god on the inside, he was forcefully breaking apart.

IT HURT whenever Alfred would join his friends and torture him. Not physically; oh please, Arthur could handle that even though he used make-up just to cover the bruises that painted his whole body; but it hurts emotionally. He had always pegged Alfred to be his hero, but he guessed that even heroes become villains too. It just hurt him that his true friend became a living nightmare for him. He could remember how Alfred would always be there for him whem they were young, but now all Arthur could remember was that Alfred would just leave him there physically and emotionally broken. Alfred just did not know that he was digging Arthur's grave. Sometimes it just crossed Arthur's mind that it should be better if he, the British-once-best friend, was gone so as just to stop himself from being torured and killed.

IT HURT whenever Francis would join his friends and torture him. Not mentally; oh please, Arthur could handle that even though his mentality was just hanging on a thread; but it hurts emotionally. He had always pegged Francis to be his counselor, but he guessed that even counselors become the assaultor. It just hurt him that his frenemy became a living nightmare for him. He could remember how Francis would always listen to his problems and advise him when they were young, but now all Arthur could remeber was that Francis would just leave him there mentally and emotionally broken. Francis just did not know that he was slowly squeezing Arthur's breath away from him. Sometimes, it just crossed Arthur's mind that it should be better if he, the eyebrows frenemy, was gone so as just to stop himself from being choked and killed.

IT HURT whenever his father would verbally abuse him. Not just emotionally and mentally; oh please, Arthur already suffered that from his two former friends; but it hurts everywhere. He had always pegged his father to be his protector and savior, but he guessed that even protectors and saviors become evil. He could remember his father to be so caring and loving, but now all Arthur could remember was that his father would just leave him mentally, emotionally, and spiritually broken. His father just did not know that he was killing his own son brutally with the hands of his verbal abuse. Sometimes, it just crossed Arthur's mind that it should be better if he, the only son, was gone so as just to stop himself from being abused and killed.

So yes, that would Arthur do. He would take his life away; nobody would even notice. He was just tired, yes he was tired, that was all. He would take his own life away just because he was tired.

He was tired of breathing. He was tired of being bullied. He was tired of being tortured. He was tired of being abused. He was tired of being shouted at. He was tired of being shoved. He was being tired of being pushed. He was tired of being hurt. He was tired of living. He was tired of being killed physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. He was tired of everything.

Yes he was tired. That was all. He was tired.

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Maybe Arthur should just like the color red. Blood red to be exact. That was the same hue that perfectly describes the blood that was slowly trickling down his wrist. He should love that color since many people contributed for it to escape his wrist after all.

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Arthur always liked the color green. Emerald green to be exact. That was the hue that perfectly describes the color of his own bright and peircing eyes. His eyes were big and always shining, it was always full of life.

But how could he still like the color green now? How could he do it when the reason he liked the color green had already vanished?

Well, the reason was that his eyes, which were once lively, had already lost its vibrance. If people would stare at those eyes, they would see emptiness and blankness. That was right, those bright emerald eyes were now nothing. Those eyes were now dead.

Arthur Kirkland, the one who once owned those bright, shining emerald eyes, was now dead.

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**uhhh, review? They are greatly appreciated. :")**


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred Jones always liked the color green. Emerald green to be exact. That was the hue that perfectly describes the color of Arthur's bright and piercing eyes. Arthur's eyes were big and always shining, it was always full of life.

But how could he still like the color green now? How could he do it when the reason he liked the color green was slowly vanishing?

Alfred knew the reason why the reason was vanishing. And he knew when it started to dissappear.

That all started when he transferred at that school.

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Alfred's first few weeks at that school was great. The moment he stepped inside that building, he quickly acquired many friends. He instantly became popular. He was happy with the presence of his friends, and they were happy with Alfred's presence.

Even though Alfred was happy with his friends, he could not help but feel that something was missing. And he found out what was missing when he heard Arthur, his childhood bestfriend, became the student council president.

He was immediately filled with happiness; he even planned to throw a little party to congratualate his friend. But unfortunately, his friends' idea of a congratulatory party was different. Brutally different.

Alfred was surprised when suddenly, one afternoon, his friends visited Arthur. But instead of being happy, Arthur immediately stiffened and stuttered. Wthout a single warning, one of Alfred's friend punched the Brit in the gut hard. Arthur immediately fell to the floor hacking up blood. When Alfred stepped up to interfere, one if the higher-ups in their group glared at him. Alfred was in a dilemma; either help Arthur and be labeled something bad, or stay there and watch Arthur being tortured.

After a hard choosing, Alfred chose the latter, thinking that once this was over, he would just apologize to his bestfriend. But of course, everything was not easy as what it sounds.

From that day on, Arthur avoided him all the time, as if his life depended on it. Whenever he would see Arthur, the Brit would tremble and shake and would immediately change his directions. With that, Alfred did not get to apologize. Besides, he could not even leave his group on their daily bullying-the-weak-ones sessions.

Bullying really was a daily session, but their favorite target was Arthur. They might be enjoying, but not Alfred. Definitely not Alfred.

Alfred would just stand there on the back biting his lip while his friends shoved, punched, cut Arthur. After a few minutes of bullying, which seemed like hours for Arthur and Alfred, they would finally stop; leaving Arthur deliciously pale and bloody inside a locker.

Alfred was hurt deeply, but he bloody well knew that Arthur felt the most pain of all. He knew that he was the reason that Arthur was getting worse and worse everyday. He knew that all of Arthur's bruises, wounds, and cuts was because of him. He knew that Arthur's blank and void eyes were because of him.

'This needs to stop' Alfred thought one day after seeing Arthur curl up and sob quietly on the corner of the restroom.

But unfortunately for him, the moment he decided to stand up for the Brit, was the moment he recieved a very terrible news.

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Alfred Jones always liked the color green. Emerald green to be exact. That was the hue that perfectly describes the color of Arthur's bright and piercing eyes. Arthur's eyes were big and always shining, it was always full of life.

But how could he still like the color green now? How could he do it when the reason he liked the color green had already vanished?

That was right; Arthur, the owner of those bright green eyes, the childhood best friend of Alfred, the one Alfred dedicated his life to save in times of need which the American did not fulfill, the one who had gone through physical torture every single day, was now dead.

Arthur Kirkland was now dead.

And that what made Alfred Jones die on the inside out.

All was lost.

He could never see Arthur again.

He could never see those emerald eyes again.

He could never like the color green now.


End file.
